c and his good friend aramaya.
obviously uptonogood.
xx
mama b
28.10.09
preserves
what was once a driveway full of poorly performing leeks has made its way towards an afternoon of pickling and now we have to wait, once again until the leeks are ready.
2 weeks, they say.
i've waited months already.
perhaps the tiny piece of soil beside the driveway was not the best position for my winter leeks, but we did try. we parked the car at inconvenient angles for months on end and still they didn't grow. i mounded them up, i observed them. but those lazy-arsed leeks just wouldn't move. i'd almost given up hope when one of my edible garden buddies told me -if you don't pay attention they might bolt!
bolt indeed. these leeks would be the only creatures in the world who didn't fatten through not moving. bolt? bolt! i'd be lucky!
but bolt they did. in their waif-ish way those skinny leeks lept skyward all of a sudden and so i was obliged to pull them out all at once. and being as it's not soup season i had to come up with a cunning plan b.
my pickling and preserving book had a recipe within for leek and cashew pickle.
i assembled the ingredients
i busied myself sterilising jars, chopping leeks and other technical stuff.
i pretty much did everything but read the recipe from beginning to end.
what is it about us humans that we think we can get away with this sort of behaviour?
we have a go at it before we read the instructions and invariably have to refer to them halfway, with some sort of mystery part in the left hand and the screwdriver nowhere to be seen. or in this case, realising that the leeks needed blanching minutes before i was about to put them into the jar.
well, problem is now i've done it. the lids are on and the book says i've gotta wait! 2 weeks. all sorts of things could happen in 2 weeks.
-so just how do you eat these pickles? asks p
-with cheese?
he snorts; he is insulted with this reply.
to his approval the book suggests coupling with pork or beef of some description... great.
i reckon it'll go great with some wine ;)
xxx
mama b
27.10.09
mon château fort et mon bac à sable
a+
c
20.10.09
developing
do you ever wonder the origin of words?
i'm not talking about from the etymologists view point, i'm talking about from 80-something centimetres, from the prospective of a 19 month old friwi.
our wee man has a series of words that we can understand. take hmmhmm -this we know to mean dog, or chien, depending on who you're talking to. (he's recently shortened this to hmmm) the origin of this word is obvious, as it's the noise a dog makes. likewise mao, bokbok and tweee.
but how does ah-ee mean ouef? when we point out to calix that the correct word for egg is ouef, he then repeats 'ach'.
it took me a while to figure our that 'didit' was voiture, but 'wewo' being velo should have been obvious!
our son, the mini polyglot, has even ventured into translation. his granny insists that cheese is the correct word for momage, that car is the correct word for didit. perhaps calix thinks that maybe it's just granny that uses these words as he always points out things in his language to grandad.
he calls a telephone 'bye', and honey and jam are both 'ma-ees', but there's no mistaking marmite or pain, yaourt or jjjjjjjjjja (chocolate).
he'll happily point out the bain, douche, bottes, couche, and he's ecstatic when you mention going to la plage.
but the greatest joy has been his recent ability to express his gratitude with his own little way of saying merchi.
his little community of friends include a swiwi (swedish kiwi), diwi (german, or deutsch kiwi) a briwi (brazilian kiwi) and i'm not sure how to describe an english-kiwi.
as max points out something to calix 'teeta caca!' he says, calix is happy to repeat it. and little aramaya says 'zu' when he shuts the gate, calix repeats that as well.
our little men, are they the future of united nations peace talks? or a super football team with a language all of their own....
xx
mama b
i'm not talking about from the etymologists view point, i'm talking about from 80-something centimetres, from the prospective of a 19 month old friwi.
our wee man has a series of words that we can understand. take hmmhmm -this we know to mean dog, or chien, depending on who you're talking to. (he's recently shortened this to hmmm) the origin of this word is obvious, as it's the noise a dog makes. likewise mao, bokbok and tweee.
but how does ah-ee mean ouef? when we point out to calix that the correct word for egg is ouef, he then repeats 'ach'.
it took me a while to figure our that 'didit' was voiture, but 'wewo' being velo should have been obvious!
our son, the mini polyglot, has even ventured into translation. his granny insists that cheese is the correct word for momage, that car is the correct word for didit. perhaps calix thinks that maybe it's just granny that uses these words as he always points out things in his language to grandad.
he calls a telephone 'bye', and honey and jam are both 'ma-ees', but there's no mistaking marmite or pain, yaourt or jjjjjjjjjja (chocolate).
he'll happily point out the bain, douche, bottes, couche, and he's ecstatic when you mention going to la plage.
but the greatest joy has been his recent ability to express his gratitude with his own little way of saying merchi.
his little community of friends include a swiwi (swedish kiwi), diwi (german, or deutsch kiwi) a briwi (brazilian kiwi) and i'm not sure how to describe an english-kiwi.
as max points out something to calix 'teeta caca!' he says, calix is happy to repeat it. and little aramaya says 'zu' when he shuts the gate, calix repeats that as well.
our little men, are they the future of united nations peace talks? or a super football team with a language all of their own....
xx
mama b
16.10.09
admiring the greenery
we welcome spring to the republic, with open arms. we rejoice with the traditional barefooted peasant dance, we drink cider on the terrace until our cheeks glow a rosey red and we picnic on the grass.
from the window, on the chillier days (cos it's still only spring) we watch the buds fatten and burst. the green becomes greener until it's as green as can be.
which is pretty green.
the shade of grass.
or, new leaves.
or aphids.
not bothered with immigration formalities these clandestine insects snuck into the garden and hid amongst my lettuce, disguised themselves on the sage leaves.
obviously these freeloaders haven't read the book on companion planting as they've made a home not 30 cm from my garlic.
so now, i wonder to myself, do i wait for their natural predators to arrive? as nature would have it that's the logical next step. or do i make up some sort of witches potion to kill them all (and disregard nature)? or do i just ask them, politely, to move on (using my best britishpoliceman voice)?
so far, i'm using the zen approach to gardening- that it's their darma to be eaten & that someone else will be along shortly...
in the meantime, we have been blessed with rain. august was unseasonally hot and dry; but what it offered in unseasonal parchiness september countered with its damp and cold: do not pass go, go directly back to winter...
alas, without the spring rain the spectacle would be short lived! but while each droplet was filled with the promise of new life (not in the biblical sense, of course), it also imported certain fungal blooms, known to the gardener as powdery mildew (and silently cursed under the breath).
aiie aiie aiie! already!
quickly i mixed up a teaspoon of baking soda in a litre of water, and sprayed it over the leaves.
nature countered with rain.
i picked some comfrey, nettles and chamomile and set to soak in a bucket with seaweed tea for 2 days. comfrey, stinging nettles and seaweed contain silica, which adhers to the leaves and makes it's difficult for the fungi to spread, the chamomile contains a mild anti-bacterial action... they'll also help fortify the plant's general health...
and it rained some more.
and they forecast more.
so even before my plans for being selfsufficient in the vegetable department have germinated it appears that it is going to be more difficult than i first imagined...
it's not quite a case of counting your chickens before they hatch...
xx
mama b
from the window, on the chillier days (cos it's still only spring) we watch the buds fatten and burst. the green becomes greener until it's as green as can be.
which is pretty green.
the shade of grass.
or, new leaves.
or aphids.
not bothered with immigration formalities these clandestine insects snuck into the garden and hid amongst my lettuce, disguised themselves on the sage leaves.
obviously these freeloaders haven't read the book on companion planting as they've made a home not 30 cm from my garlic.
so now, i wonder to myself, do i wait for their natural predators to arrive? as nature would have it that's the logical next step. or do i make up some sort of witches potion to kill them all (and disregard nature)? or do i just ask them, politely, to move on (using my best britishpoliceman voice)?
so far, i'm using the zen approach to gardening- that it's their darma to be eaten & that someone else will be along shortly...
in the meantime, we have been blessed with rain. august was unseasonally hot and dry; but what it offered in unseasonal parchiness september countered with its damp and cold: do not pass go, go directly back to winter...
alas, without the spring rain the spectacle would be short lived! but while each droplet was filled with the promise of new life (not in the biblical sense, of course), it also imported certain fungal blooms, known to the gardener as powdery mildew (and silently cursed under the breath).
aiie aiie aiie! already!
quickly i mixed up a teaspoon of baking soda in a litre of water, and sprayed it over the leaves.
nature countered with rain.
i picked some comfrey, nettles and chamomile and set to soak in a bucket with seaweed tea for 2 days. comfrey, stinging nettles and seaweed contain silica, which adhers to the leaves and makes it's difficult for the fungi to spread, the chamomile contains a mild anti-bacterial action... they'll also help fortify the plant's general health...
and it rained some more.
and they forecast more.
so even before my plans for being selfsufficient in the vegetable department have germinated it appears that it is going to be more difficult than i first imagined...
it's not quite a case of counting your chickens before they hatch...
xx
mama b
12.10.09
sorry tales
nee-naw-nee-naw went the red fire engine.
the siren sounded loud and i turned to see it flash red passed our window. and then again. and then again.
-that was close, remarked a visiting friend. yes, very close. closer inspection via our back window revealed great swathes of black smoke bellowing across the sky.
yikes!
as all good neighbours and naturally curious people do, we were obliged to go and have a closer look.
the three fire engines were parked at viscious angles across the road, hoses transporting water, but not fast enough, to the flames that were belching from the red hot tin roof. men yelled instructions while a crowd watched, mesmorised. i saw a man, not dressed in the traditional firefighters uniform (but wearing soot all the same), helping to move a hose and then give up. he looked to the gods and then to his feet as he walked in sadness away from his home, the flames and the gathering crowd.
this punctuated the week of tsunami warnings, earthquakes and unseasonal snowfalls that left more than just my neighbour a little sad.
all but my neighbour's stories carry the wrath of the earth under their breath...
but, all the same, my neighbour's story needs an audience. it's a story i know i shall learn a little from. it's the story of one man, cold, trying to warm his house against the unseasonal cold front. the story of a man using wet wood in his fire place, a man who couldn't/wouldn't chop the wood smaller, or maybe did, but still decided to use kerosene to get the flames jumping.
and jump they did.
onto his hands. he spilt the kerosene. he ran to the kitchen, dripping the kerosene and flames in his wake. by the time he'd washed his hands and relieved his light burns he turned to see his floor alight.
he fought this fire only to find once extinguished that he could still hear the flames roaring- but not in the fire place.
within minutes that hungry fire, having turned its nose up at the wet wood, had licked, devilishly, the camping equipment stored too closely to the fire, the walls, the ceiling... a fire doesn't wait to taste a wooden house.
dialling 1-1-1 calls the local volunteers, but by that time the sorry tale was already spun.
our week of bagpacking, of warnings and practice runs, of forecast snow but not forecast woe has sent me a couple of lessons on the way.
namely, some times you can't plan for an emergency, but you can be prepared. not necessarily just by knowing where your keys are, or where your passport is, but by simply knowing that your loved ones know that you love them.
and secondly, there are no short cuts. time can not be saved, i am sure of that. it always seems, to me, when i try and do something a little simpler, or quicker, it goes wrong. i break the thing. or it bends, or i spill it. all things are meant to take the length of time they take. not even instant means instant, and anyway, if the opposite of instant is time-consuming, maybe it's actually worth investing the time, if it's worth doing.
and finally, despite everything, shit happens. and it happens to everyone. all the time. and sometimes being the best prepared person in the whole entire world, it might just happen to you as well.
as well as being prepared, we need to just be. now. be happy, be sad, be jubilant, be angry, be jealous, or outraged, or guilty.
but it's better to simply be,
or be simple.
xx
mama b
(trying hard to just live in the here and now)
the siren sounded loud and i turned to see it flash red passed our window. and then again. and then again.
-that was close, remarked a visiting friend. yes, very close. closer inspection via our back window revealed great swathes of black smoke bellowing across the sky.
yikes!
as all good neighbours and naturally curious people do, we were obliged to go and have a closer look.
the three fire engines were parked at viscious angles across the road, hoses transporting water, but not fast enough, to the flames that were belching from the red hot tin roof. men yelled instructions while a crowd watched, mesmorised. i saw a man, not dressed in the traditional firefighters uniform (but wearing soot all the same), helping to move a hose and then give up. he looked to the gods and then to his feet as he walked in sadness away from his home, the flames and the gathering crowd.
this punctuated the week of tsunami warnings, earthquakes and unseasonal snowfalls that left more than just my neighbour a little sad.
all but my neighbour's stories carry the wrath of the earth under their breath...
but, all the same, my neighbour's story needs an audience. it's a story i know i shall learn a little from. it's the story of one man, cold, trying to warm his house against the unseasonal cold front. the story of a man using wet wood in his fire place, a man who couldn't/wouldn't chop the wood smaller, or maybe did, but still decided to use kerosene to get the flames jumping.
and jump they did.
onto his hands. he spilt the kerosene. he ran to the kitchen, dripping the kerosene and flames in his wake. by the time he'd washed his hands and relieved his light burns he turned to see his floor alight.
he fought this fire only to find once extinguished that he could still hear the flames roaring- but not in the fire place.
within minutes that hungry fire, having turned its nose up at the wet wood, had licked, devilishly, the camping equipment stored too closely to the fire, the walls, the ceiling... a fire doesn't wait to taste a wooden house.
dialling 1-1-1 calls the local volunteers, but by that time the sorry tale was already spun.
our week of bagpacking, of warnings and practice runs, of forecast snow but not forecast woe has sent me a couple of lessons on the way.
namely, some times you can't plan for an emergency, but you can be prepared. not necessarily just by knowing where your keys are, or where your passport is, but by simply knowing that your loved ones know that you love them.
and secondly, there are no short cuts. time can not be saved, i am sure of that. it always seems, to me, when i try and do something a little simpler, or quicker, it goes wrong. i break the thing. or it bends, or i spill it. all things are meant to take the length of time they take. not even instant means instant, and anyway, if the opposite of instant is time-consuming, maybe it's actually worth investing the time, if it's worth doing.
and finally, despite everything, shit happens. and it happens to everyone. all the time. and sometimes being the best prepared person in the whole entire world, it might just happen to you as well.
as well as being prepared, we need to just be. now. be happy, be sad, be jubilant, be angry, be jealous, or outraged, or guilty.
but it's better to simply be,
or be simple.
xx
mama b
(trying hard to just live in the here and now)
3.10.09
ingredients
i'm not sure how long it's been that i've been interested in making things 'from scratch', or how widely known this is, but this year for my birthday i was given a really great series of books on how to make stuff.
cheese, preserves, mosaics and cosmetics amongst other things.
one of the books, 'domestic goddess on a budget' had some great ideas, and the recipes matched the things i had in my cupboard. all that was really missing was some wine and some friends to share it with.
so i invited over some demi-goddesses who brought along some wine and nibbles and prepared to pass an evening together, eating, laughing, drinking and pampering ourselves with homemade cosmetics.
we soaked our hands in hot water while patchouli oil wafted gently towards our noses; i made a honey sugar scrub which we used to really clean and soften our hands. next i whipped up a coconut oil cream (with lavender oil) to moisturise our lovely skin. we nibbled, sipped and gossiped while we applied a honey-yoghurt face mask (with lavender blossoms and banana). and we laughed outrageously while we sat with granny's cold cream all over our face.
the reason we laughed was really because this cold cream was quite unlike granny's traditional cream.
me thinks that granny never tried to convert her recipe back to imperial measures to match the ancient scales (she was probably already using these scales and wasn't confused to start with)
me thinks that also granny hadn't drunk the better part of a bottle of wine before trying to undertake said conversion either!
i put in double the amount of beeswax prescribed....
needless to say, although it wasn't quite as granny intended, it was delicious. after washing it off our faces felt fresh and rejuvenated.
some might think it was a dangerous time to gather, the night before a full moon. but no. we had a great time, discussing all the issues that interest a series of fine women.
and decided to do it again.
before the next full moon.
xx
mama b
the recipes are simple- try it yourself!
honey-sugar scrub:
1T honey, 1/2C sugar, 1/2T lemon juice.
heat honey to liquid add lemon juice & mix; add to sugar and mix well.
coconut oil cream:
1T coconut oil, 1/2T almond oil, 1/2T rosewater, 10 drops of essential oil
combine...
honey-yoghurt mask
1t finely minced lavender blossoms, 1/4C yoghurt, 1/8C mashed banana, 1/8C honey
soak lavender ablossoms in yoghurt for 1hr or more; gently stir in banana; add honey last & stir to incorporate.
wash face & generously apply; leave for 1/2 hr. rinse off with warm water
granny's delicious cold cream
84ml olive oil, 28g beeswax, 28ml rose-water, 10-20 drops of rose essential oil.
put the oil and wax in a double boiler and heat until the wax melts; gently warm the rose-water and pour into the wax-oil mix; remove from heat, add rose oil and stir until it cools.
use the best ingredients you can afford.
pascal made the yoghurt, the honey was local manuka honey, the lavender blossoms from our garden; the wine from our island and the goddesses a delicious blend of local and imported goods.
cheese, preserves, mosaics and cosmetics amongst other things.
one of the books, 'domestic goddess on a budget' had some great ideas, and the recipes matched the things i had in my cupboard. all that was really missing was some wine and some friends to share it with.
so i invited over some demi-goddesses who brought along some wine and nibbles and prepared to pass an evening together, eating, laughing, drinking and pampering ourselves with homemade cosmetics.
we soaked our hands in hot water while patchouli oil wafted gently towards our noses; i made a honey sugar scrub which we used to really clean and soften our hands. next i whipped up a coconut oil cream (with lavender oil) to moisturise our lovely skin. we nibbled, sipped and gossiped while we applied a honey-yoghurt face mask (with lavender blossoms and banana). and we laughed outrageously while we sat with granny's cold cream all over our face.
the reason we laughed was really because this cold cream was quite unlike granny's traditional cream.
me thinks that granny never tried to convert her recipe back to imperial measures to match the ancient scales (she was probably already using these scales and wasn't confused to start with)
me thinks that also granny hadn't drunk the better part of a bottle of wine before trying to undertake said conversion either!
i put in double the amount of beeswax prescribed....
needless to say, although it wasn't quite as granny intended, it was delicious. after washing it off our faces felt fresh and rejuvenated.
some might think it was a dangerous time to gather, the night before a full moon. but no. we had a great time, discussing all the issues that interest a series of fine women.
and decided to do it again.
before the next full moon.
xx
mama b
the recipes are simple- try it yourself!
honey-sugar scrub:
1T honey, 1/2C sugar, 1/2T lemon juice.
heat honey to liquid add lemon juice & mix; add to sugar and mix well.
coconut oil cream:
1T coconut oil, 1/2T almond oil, 1/2T rosewater, 10 drops of essential oil
combine...
honey-yoghurt mask
1t finely minced lavender blossoms, 1/4C yoghurt, 1/8C mashed banana, 1/8C honey
soak lavender ablossoms in yoghurt for 1hr or more; gently stir in banana; add honey last & stir to incorporate.
wash face & generously apply; leave for 1/2 hr. rinse off with warm water
granny's delicious cold cream
84ml olive oil, 28g beeswax, 28ml rose-water, 10-20 drops of rose essential oil.
put the oil and wax in a double boiler and heat until the wax melts; gently warm the rose-water and pour into the wax-oil mix; remove from heat, add rose oil and stir until it cools.
use the best ingredients you can afford.
pascal made the yoghurt, the honey was local manuka honey, the lavender blossoms from our garden; the wine from our island and the goddesses a delicious blend of local and imported goods.
1.10.09
a practice run
wednesday morning me and calix dragged our weary heads off the pillow and trundled into the lounge. i was supposed to have organised a picnic for some kids but the weather was looking like we'd have to cancel, again. i turned on the internet to check my mail.
nothing much in my inbox, i flicked to the weather. as i thought- rain.
while i was waiting for the kettle to boil i clicked on stuff- a kiwi news website. the headline reads:
TSUNAMI WARNING
almost similtaneously the phone rings. it's my girlfriend lina. she also lives at the beach, on the beach front. she knows we don't have a telly and so potentially, i don't know the news. -check it out, she says.
an enormous earthquake and subsequent tsunami hit samoa that morning. the wave would arrive on my beach in 2 1/2 hours. enough time for coffee....
i searched further.
they were predicting the wave to be 1m high.
at low tide, this would just be a surge.
at high tide, this would mean a lot of extra water.
i searched further.
the civil defence website suggests staying away from the beach, estuaries and rivermouths. like, pretty much where we live.
i tuned into the radio to try and get some updates. there was an idiot going on about it 'only being 1m, why wasn't anyone out surfing'. obviously this guy didn't live at the beach! i tuned out.
second coffee and time for action. but what do i take? i know pascal and i had spend a whole evening talking about this, but now, well, there was a wave on the way....
i made a pile of clothes for calix; nappies, toiletries and other essentials. i packed the cameras, computer and hard drive into a box. i went to the garage to get my old back pack out of retirement- one more adventure ahead...
i looked around: 1m of water wouldn't destroy our house, necessarily. but a metre of seawater and debri in the garage where all our books are stored would be devastating... and then i looked at the garden: wow, 1m of saltwater would completely take out the vege garden, and leave it that way for some time too. and the chickens? do i take them? and if i take the chickens, do i take the cat????
so in my demi-panic i settled on taking just our digital memories and enough stuff to keep capt c sorted. i shoved it all in the car and headed to my folks', inland two-storey house.
they'd not even seen the news and were quite surprised with my call
-hi, can we come to yours?
-yes, of course. what's up?
-there's a tsunami warning. i'll be there in a bit...
but no one else was preparing themselves.
the wave had arrived in the north island and while they evacuated some low-lying shore front areas the wave was little more than an unexpected hightide. for us.
for the poor folk in samoa it's another story.
strange, though. the things i thought important. obviously we were under no real threat. we weren't expecting a 3m wall of water like in samoa. but the prospect of leaving my home, of having to decide what i would take... well, i'm pleased i've had a good practice now. i know that we're (mostly) prepared.
xx
mama b
nothing much in my inbox, i flicked to the weather. as i thought- rain.
while i was waiting for the kettle to boil i clicked on stuff- a kiwi news website. the headline reads:
TSUNAMI WARNING
almost similtaneously the phone rings. it's my girlfriend lina. she also lives at the beach, on the beach front. she knows we don't have a telly and so potentially, i don't know the news. -check it out, she says.
an enormous earthquake and subsequent tsunami hit samoa that morning. the wave would arrive on my beach in 2 1/2 hours. enough time for coffee....
i searched further.
they were predicting the wave to be 1m high.
at low tide, this would just be a surge.
at high tide, this would mean a lot of extra water.
i searched further.
the civil defence website suggests staying away from the beach, estuaries and rivermouths. like, pretty much where we live.
i tuned into the radio to try and get some updates. there was an idiot going on about it 'only being 1m, why wasn't anyone out surfing'. obviously this guy didn't live at the beach! i tuned out.
second coffee and time for action. but what do i take? i know pascal and i had spend a whole evening talking about this, but now, well, there was a wave on the way....
i made a pile of clothes for calix; nappies, toiletries and other essentials. i packed the cameras, computer and hard drive into a box. i went to the garage to get my old back pack out of retirement- one more adventure ahead...
i looked around: 1m of water wouldn't destroy our house, necessarily. but a metre of seawater and debri in the garage where all our books are stored would be devastating... and then i looked at the garden: wow, 1m of saltwater would completely take out the vege garden, and leave it that way for some time too. and the chickens? do i take them? and if i take the chickens, do i take the cat????
so in my demi-panic i settled on taking just our digital memories and enough stuff to keep capt c sorted. i shoved it all in the car and headed to my folks', inland two-storey house.
they'd not even seen the news and were quite surprised with my call
-hi, can we come to yours?
-yes, of course. what's up?
-there's a tsunami warning. i'll be there in a bit...
but no one else was preparing themselves.
the wave had arrived in the north island and while they evacuated some low-lying shore front areas the wave was little more than an unexpected hightide. for us.
for the poor folk in samoa it's another story.
strange, though. the things i thought important. obviously we were under no real threat. we weren't expecting a 3m wall of water like in samoa. but the prospect of leaving my home, of having to decide what i would take... well, i'm pleased i've had a good practice now. i know that we're (mostly) prepared.
xx
mama b
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